G I R L F R I E N D
by Illusion fox
Summary: Antonio Fernandez Carriedo had a girlfriend. You, on the other hand, were his girl friend. Funny how one little space between a word can make such a difference, huh? SpainXFem!Reader, Genderbends, Human Names, and a twinge of VariousXFem!Reader. Review
1. Chapter 1

**. . . Curse you laziness and plot bunnies! You have made me create a new story! WAAAAA~! Anyway, this is my first ever Reader-Insert thingy so please tell me what I can improve on! **

**Also, the A/N will be in bold, like so.**

"Miss Pangaea!" a little toddler waddled up to his young preschool teacher, his hands clamping his tomato-shaped piece of paper. "Me going to color drawing weally, weally, weally bright wed! Like yummy tomatoes!"

The blonde teacher nodded encouragingly, patting his curly dark brown hair in an affectionate manner. The boy smiled brightly, and then he awkwardly walked back to his table, multiple crayons scattered across the blue plastic table. The tanned boy analyzed the crayons expertly, searching for the perfect red crayon to color his tomato paper. Sadly, the only red crayons that weren't being used were nothing but broken off nubs. The toddler pouted, his eyes still looking around the room until he reached you.

You were currently enraptured in coloring your apple. Deciding not to pick yellow or green, you chose the color red, and, with a stroke of luck, you had found a perfect, sharp, red crayon. The red crayon swiftly scribbled through your apple-shaped paper, your (left/right) hand guiding it. You pushed hard so the scarlet hue would really stand out. The last thing you expected was a Spanish toddler ripping the crayon out of your grasp.

"Miiinnnneee!" he whined, taking the bottom of the crayon. Angered, you held on the crayon tightly, so hard that your knuckles became white. However, he didn't budge. The kid continued to pull on the crayon with his face red and his gasps becoming quick and heavy.

"Antonio! (Name)! Stop this right now!" Miss Pangaea cried, storming over to you two, her hands glued to her hips.

Unfortunately, she was too late.

In a split second, the crayon broke, sending you flying back in your chair, and the kid named Antonio stumbling back until he fell on his rump. The boy sat there for a second, taking in just what happened, glanced at the half of crayon in his right hand, and tears began to rim his bright green eyes.

"Vat vas so awesome! Do it again, kesesese!" laughed a toddler, but Miss Pangaea gave him an icy glare. The kid stopped laughing.

You were still very angry at this Antonio kid, seeing as he _did_ break your crayon. However, the fiery emotions seeped away at the sight of him crying; tears leaking out of his puffy eyes and then trailing down his reddened cheeks in rivers. Your hard expression softened, your emptiness being filled by guilt. Quietly, you gathered the other half of the crayon that lay limply at his side and made a beeline to Miss Pangaea's desk. Taking the roll of tape, you messily tied the two into one, wasting much more tape then there were needed. You made your way back to Antonio, who was hiccupping because of his tears. Sheepishly, you handed him the crayon after whispering, "Sowwy?"

(Page Break)

Of course, preschool was nothing but history now. All you needed to do was survive through (Midde, High, etc.)school.

You held your books like everyone else did, not hugging it close to your chest like all those cutesy klutz anime characters. However, you did take great interest in your feet, seeing how your (E/C) eyes were practically glued to the floor. Months had passed since your first day at (Your School's Name), but you still felt extremely insecure around everyone. New people and a new school just wasn't your greatest idea of fun. Even so, you tried very hard to make new friends, so you weren't completely alone. And then, of course, your mind drifted to _him_.

_Him._ The one who made you laugh. The one who made you fit in. The one who made you feel _comfortable._

There was no doubt that he was one of the most handsome guys in the school; those emeralds of eyes had a unique touch of passion and love that made girls go wild. His skin was flawlessly tanned and his somewhat curly brown hair was always cutely out of place, but that was his style. He dressed casually; plain white t-shirts and beige cargo shorts. Of course, if he was to dress up a little more formally, the Spanish lad would probably blind every female he passed. In other words, he had really grown up since preschool.

It was because of this that made you wonder why someone like him would still be friends with someone like _you_.

Springtime was soon closing to an end, and summer was dawning just over the horizon. Summer was very enjoyable, except those extremely hot days. Antonio didn't mind, though. He loved summer, along with all the bugs and the unbearable heat. But what he loved most of all was the fact that tomato season was in summertime, and absolutely nothing could be better than tomatoes.

"Hey, (Name)~!" you heard Antonio's cheerful call behind you, his right hand waving in the air as he held his books in his free arm.

You turned to face him, a smile gracing your lips. Girls watched in envy as the boy jogged up to you, green eyes sparkling just like they do in his own special way. You acknowledged him by saying a quick, "Hey!" Antonio tousled your (H/C) hair, and you patted it back into place.

"Chica, you will never guessed what happened!" Antonio cried cheerfully, walking side-by-side to you.

"What?" you asked half-heartedly.

"Well, Romana," Antonio started, stating his girlfriend's name, "actually kissed me! Well, of course she sort of hit me on the head at first, but it was a hit of love of course, and then she tripped and fell, but I caught her in my arms. But then I lost my balance, you know? Not that she's heavy or anything, but still! Then I sorta fell on her, and then she kissed me! Gee, I think I'm in love, (Name)! It was amazing."

Being an easy-going Spaniard, Antonio continued to talk, and you began to tune him out. Sure, you loved him like crazy and usually you'd never ignore him, but . . . you got touchy when it came to Romana. The Italian girl was the complete opposite of the Spanish boy, but you figured this was where the "opposites attract" factor came in. You preferred hanging out with Feliciana, Romana's twin sister, since the air-headed Italian was a lot more fun to be around. As for Romana, she was just . . . mean.

"(Name)? Hey, are you listening? I asked you a question!" Antonio's voice brought you back from that wandering mind of yours.

"O-Oh, sorry. I, uh, spaced out again, I guess," you stammered, blinking so you focus on the crowded hallway before you.

"It's fine, really," he assured you, that smile of his still plastered on his face. "I was asking you whether or not I should ask her to the prom."

A streak of pain jabbed your heart, but you tried not to let it show. _How embarrassing,_ you thought, shaking your head lightly. _I'm jealous over his girlfriend. I'm just a friend, nothing more. _You took in a quick breath, letting the words filter through your brain. _If only I was . . ._

"Well, of course you should ask her to prom," you said, forcing a smile as you looked up at Antonio. "She is your, uh, girlfriend after all." The brunette boy sighed in relief, eyes flickering to yours. It looked so genuine, as if your opinion was the only thing that mattered. Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you looked back at your feet, your (H/C) tresses covering your innocent little blush.

"Anyway," Antonio beamed, "I'll see you at lunch, 'kay?"

And with that, Antonio bounced into another class, leaving you alone in the hallway once again. Over and over, the conversation ran through your head. It was almost like a broken CD, replaying over and over and over and over. . . And, just like the conversation, you felt the same emotions as before: envy, anger, happiness, and comfort.

(Page Break)

(Your Least Favorite Subject). You hated it. Now, some people might say that "hate" is a strong word, but, this time, you meant it. You really hated (your least favorite subject). Just thinking about it gave you a freaking migraine, and the definitions and whatever never stuck to your head. And then, of course, there was your _teacher._ (His/Her) voice completely morphed into the background, giving you no choice but to daze off into your little fantasy world. Like now, for example. (Your least favorite subject's teacher's name) was currently blabbing that mouth of (his/hers) until it was nothing but insane jibber-jabber. Jibber-jabber . . . that reminded you of blue jays. And then, those blue jays, reminded you of eggs. Eggs reminded you of sausage, which reminded you of ketchup. Ketchup reminded you of tomatoes, which immediately linked to Antonio. Antonio . . .

"(Name)? I asked you the same question _five times_ already!" the teacher screeched, waking you up from your little daze.

"Uh, I, um, sixty-four?" you guessed, and kids began to laugh. (Teacher's Name) just shook (his/her) head angrily, sending you a bone-chilling death glare. For the rest of the class, you (well, tried to, at least.) paid attention.

(Page Break)

"Kesesese! (Name), come sit with the awesome me!" called a familiar voice, echoing throughout the loud and chattering cafeteria. You turned, seeing the one and only Gilbert Weillschmidt, waving his hand towards him, gesturing you to sit with him and his friend, Francis Bonnefoy. If Antonio was here, that'd complete the "Bad Touch Trio," as they were called. You were completely used to this, seeing as you've grown up with Gilbert since preschool as well. At first, you two . . . weren't the best of friends (he always made fun of you and somehow was able to dig up your elementary mistakes). Time went on, and you weren't surprised of his natural over-confident personality.

As for Francis, you two met around Elementary School. He gave you an occasional wink or whisper in your ear, but, other than that, he was pretty much harmless. After all, Francis had his eye on someone else. So, you and the Frenchman became simple friends.

"'Kay, hold on," you say, weaving your way through the crowds of people. Setting your lunch on the table, you tenderly sat down, smiling at your good friends. Gilbert held up a plain peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Look at the awesome sandwich the awesome me made! West is so proud that I could make it myself!" the silver-haired albino bragged, waving it in the air like it was a god. Francis scoffed, opening his lunch. Inside was a fancy-looking lunch, as if it was made by one of those gourmet cooks.

"It's French, you know," Francis explained, blue eyes sparkling when he noticed your interest in his delightful cooking. You shrugged, looking down at your own food. Unlike Francis's food, it was a simple turkey and cheese sandwich with a bag of potato chips. Your glorious beverage was a plain water bottle that was half empty. Or, looking on the optimistic side, it was half full.

"Where's Antonio?" you asked casually, trying not to sound too interested. They too didn't know of your "minor" crush on the Spaniard, so Gilbert and Francis weren't the slightest bit suspicious.

"Oh, 'e is zitting by the Vargas twins and Ludwig, cheri," Francis murmured, twirling a lock of golden hair between his fingers. "Zey are just ze cutest couple, oui?"

"Psh, no chick will hold me down!" Gilbert cried, waving his hand dismissively. "All Antonio talks about is, 'Romana this,' and 'Romana that.' It makes me sick!"

"Mmm," you said, not really listening to Gilbert. Your eyes were completely locked on the bipolar couple, your teeth nibbling on your sandwich. You sighed sadly and turned back to your friends when you saw Romana give Antonio a reluctant peck on the cheek.

"He wanted to ask her to the dance," you said hoarsely, gulping down the disappointment building in the pit of your stomach. "I guess she said yes."

"Ah, I see. Are you going with anyone, (Name)?" Francis asked you. "I'm going to ask ze beautiful Alice Kirkland~! 'Opefully she won't slap me again, non?"

Gilbert laughed loudly, banging his hands on the table. "I remember last year vhen you asked her out! She poured all of her tea on your head! Kesesese!" Teary eyed, the Gilbert calmed down, still smirking at his blue-eyed friend.

"Oui," he said sadly, but he perked up. "She just doesn't know 'ow to express 'er love to me. She will come around soon, ohonhonhon~!"

"I . . . don't really have a date," you said awkwardly, playing with your napkin and avoiding their eyes.

"The awesome doesn't _need_ a date. I'm just coming for the free food," Gilbert shrugged, taking a sip of his soda.

Ah, typical Gilbert.

(Page Break)

You were walking home from school, holding onto your (color) backpack. It made your back ache from all the heavy books and binders stuffed into it, but you held through. Taking in a heaving sigh, you walked to the park, an area not too far away from the school. You had promised Antonio you'd meet him there to do your homework together. You two did this every Friday since both of you didn't want to be left with homework on Sunday. Seriously, homework piled on a Sunday sucks.

It was springtime, and the leaves were already clearly visible in the warm, orange hue of light. The sun was hanging over the horizon by a thread, clouds wafting lazily across the reddening sky. Blades of grass waved in the soft wind, making your hair swerve in the breeze. Late flowers still stood tall, blooming in a variety of colors. Your feet dragged across the ground, searching for Antonio. The next thing you saw was unexpected.

"Go away!" a shrill but urgent voice whispered. "He's coming soon!"

This voice. . . You recognized who it was, but you just couldn't put your finger on it. Who . . . ?

"Do not be so tense, da?" Now, this voice was unmistakable. There was only one person who can say something so lightly while still sounding so scary, and that person was Ivan Braginski.

Taking in a deep breath, you hid yourself behind a rather large oak tree. Luckily, Ivan's back was to you so you can you see the other person's face.

"You promised me that you would break up—" the Russian chimed, but you could tell he was upset. You peeked over the bark of the wood, but Ivan's tall body was in the way. Damn.

"Yeah, well, I will, okay?" the feminine voice angrily huffed, sounding extremely impatient. Now, you were finally able to tell who this was, even if it shocked you.

Romana Vargas.

"Hey, (Name)!" Antonio's voice was far away, coming from behind you. "What're you doing behind that tree, amiga?"

You heard a Romana's angry shriek; "Run!" and a following trample of footsteps. You sighed, plastered a fake, innocent smile on your face, and then turned to Antonio.

"Okay!" he huffed, throwing his backpack on the ground. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and his dark chocolate curls of hair were wet. As usual, he was smiling and beaming like dope, oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend might be possibly cheating on him. "We'll start with algebra, okay? Great!"

The tanned boy happily placed a bunch of worksheets and workbooks on the ground, his pencil stuck between his teeth. He stared at the math problem, eyebrows furrowing together. He looked so cute when he was attempting to be serious. The boy groaned and fell backwards onto his back, staring up at the sky.

"It's too hard," Antonio whined, placing his hands behind his head. "Man, how am I supposed to know what _X_ is? (Name)? Hey, are you listening?"

What do you do? Will you tell Antonio what you saw or will you keep your mouth shut?

**Okay, unlike most Reader-Inserts, I've decided to let the reader choose. After all, each and every one of you readers are different, and may or may not do certain actions. So, please PM me what choice you will do. For this chapter, you can either tell Antonio what you saw or keep your mouth shut.**

**The choice will be a vote. So, if three people say want to keep their mouth shut and if four people want to tell Antonio, I have to make the next chapter about how the reader will tell Antonio what they saw. I won't make both paths, though. It's too much work.**

**Even though you guys PM me for your choice, please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! The number of reviews will make me want to update more often! Thanks~**


	2. Chapter 2

**MEIN GOTT! 12 REVIEWS ALREADY? That's . . . that's flipping awesome! In return, I shall promptly give you this wonderful new chapter~**

**Translations: **

**Mi ****pequeño tomate****- My little tomato**

**Por favor- please**

**Ella es una linda, muy poco. No es de extra****ñ****ar por qu****é**** hablar tanto~! – She's cute, little one. No wonder why you talk about her so much~!**

"(Naaaame)? Heeeellloooo? Mi pequeño tomate?" Antonio waved a hand in front of your face, his face looking utterly childish in the unbelievably cute way.

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing," you said, looking down at your homework. You took an unsharpened pencil from your backpack and began to write math problems on a piece of scrap paper. Your friend did the same, only he was copying your work. You rolled your eyes at his laziness and lightly punched him the arm.

"Oh, lighten up, (Name)~!" Antonio said, patting your head. "You know how much I hate math! Do me a favor just this once, por favor?"

You sighed and shot him a glare of mock anger while scoffing, "Mmm-hmm. And you owe me, like, how many favors now?"

Antonio rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment before punching you back on the arm. You leaned on the large oak tree, still writing down math problems. Antonio shuffled over next to you, sitting closely to you. You didn't find this awkward at all (well, maybe just a little) because, after all, you and Antonio have been friends since _preschool._ He sighed, copied your work happily.

It was times like this your mind wandered to _that_ day.

You were about seven, and you were sitting on a swing, your feet dangling inches away from the ground. No one bothered to push you, so there you sat, hands gripping the chains and sad, childish (E/C) eyes staring at the ground. The hot, summer day was at its worst, the blinding sun beating down on you. You flicked your head, eyes searching for your parents. Yes, they were clearly visible. They sat happily in the shade, their eyelids hanging over their (Parent's colored eyes and Parent's colored eyes) orbs.

"Hey! Amiga!" you looked up to see a little Antonio jogging up to you. "Mamá! This is my friend, (Name)!"

Behind Antonio was a friendly-looking mother who had a striking resemblance to your friend. Like Antonio, she had the long, dark brown curls that fell mid-way down her back and the tanned skin. Her eyes were a light honey, brown, unlike her son, but they still sparkled with life, just like his. But most of all was that warm, welcoming smile of hers. It made you melt with trust and happiness, like you could confide any secret to her and she wouldn't tell a soul.

"(Name)! This is mi mamá!" Antonio cried, gesturing towards his mother.

"Ella es una linda, muy poco. No es de extrañar por qué hablar tanto~!" she cried in Spanish, hugging her son lovingly.

"M-mamá!" Antonio whined, his face turning a deep crimson. The tone of his voice clearly told his mother to shut up, but the peppy woman smiled and turned to you.

"I'll leave mi pequeño Antonio with you, (Name)~," she said happily, walking towards your parents.

Like kids usually do, you and Antonio played in the park. It varied from crossing the "crocodile pit" underneath the monkey bars to tumbling down the "black hole," or the twisty slide as it is most commonly called. Currently, you two were trying to survive the harsh climate of the Sahara Desert (the sandbox).

"I'm so tired," Antonio cried, wiping an imaginary drop of sweat off his forehead.

"I am, too," you panted, tugging the sleeve of his red shirt. Dragging your filthy shoes across the sand, you pretended that you were not in (small/big/et cetera) (town/city) of (the place you live in). No, you were in _Africa_ right now, testing your strength and endurance through the intense heat. You had nothing but your supplies and your best friend, Mr. Antonio Carriedo, as your assistant.

"I can't make it," he said dramatically, swaying unbalanced. He fell to his knees, hands digging in the sand. "It's so _hot_."

"No!" you cried, playing along with him. You stared into his eyes with playful horror, your hands gripping his shirt. "You can make it!"

"Well," Antonio gasped, covering his eyes from the hot, African sun, "I do have an idea. . . Unless, of course, you'll be up to it."

"You're my friend!" you exclaimed innocently. "Why wouldn't I? Friends stick together!"

"Okay, you must," Antonio said weakly before jumping on your back and laughing cheerfully, "give me a piggyback ride, (Name)~! Go go go!"

Struggling to keep the boy up, you gave him a piggyback ride through the "Sahara Desert." After tumbling out of the sandbox, you two rolled across the grassy ground, laughing hysterically. You remembered how it was so easy. Back then, there were no worries or complications. It was only you and him. No one got in the way between you.

_Friends stick together. . ._

The words swirled in your head as you finished the last problem for math. After all these years, you were still able to stay friends. Sure, you guys had your little friendship bumps along the road, but you always managed to patch things up.

"(Name)?" Antonio yawned, finishing the homework. "I'll do the rest later, okay? So, what do you want to do now?"

You laughed. It would always end up like this; you'd start on your homework, get bored, and then you two would slack off and just play. You slumped against the tree, thinking thoughtfully.

"I dunno," you mumbled, and then jabbed him in the stomach. "What do _you_ want to play?"

"I don't know," Antonio mimicked you. "What do you wanna play?"

Back and forth, back forth. The same little sentence repeated over and over between you two. Your eyelids fluttered, yawning. You wished time could just freeze, and you prayed to God if your wish could come true. A smile graced your lips as you fantasized about time freezing with Antonio. Just him and you. . .

Picture perfect.

(Page Break)

You were walking through the halls, alone, searching for the new chemistry room. A few days ago, some idiot had mixed together some sort of concoction that was apparently "very dangerous" as the people in white jumpsuits said when they barges into your school. So, the principal moved the chemistry room to the All Purpose Room, a place where you hardly ever ventured to. You peeked through the glass windows inside each wooden door, but you still saw no chemistry class. You passed the old Music Room, where you heard a small, faint, ever-so-light mewl for help. The door's window was covered mysteriously by newspaper. You heard a terrifying _Crash!_

Grabbing the cold, iron knob, you gently creaked the door open to a minor crack. Goosebumps rose on your (tan/dark/pale/etc.) skin as you took in a sharp, anticipating inhale of oxygen. What you saw was something you clearly didn't expect. . .

"I don't like waiting, Romana~!" a childish but horrifying voice chirped, but the slight edge to it made you realize that he was impatient. "Romana, you promised me, da? You don't have to go through this pain~!" Another crash.

Peeking through the crack with your (eye color) eyes scanning the abandoned Music Room, you saw the broken figure of a dark-haired girl sprawled on the floor, her back against the wall. Ivan stood tall and ominous, dark, violet aura slowly engulfing him. His smile, although you could only see half of it from your angle, was twisted and cracked. You couldn't help but feel terrified of the baby-faced Russian.

He was the incarnation of the devil himself.

Romano opened her dark, chocolate brown eyes, searching around with one last shred of hope. She was still fighting. She would not give up.

Her eyes met yours, where her eyebrows slightly knit together. Sure, you both sort of hated each other, but not to the point where you'd rather see her dead. Or, in this case, beat senselessly by the long ruler that the Russian held in his hands (Obviously, he must have improvised since he left his pick ax and pipe at home). She gave you the slightest nod, knowing you were her only hope.

What will you do?

Will you stop Russia yourself? Or will you get a teacher, who is probably very far away from where you are now?

**Meh, short ass chapter, I know. I'm sorry, people. Also, I STRESS that you people have to PRIVATE MESSAGE me about your choice. Why? Because, if you don't, this story (or my whole account) can be deleted. Please, do this for me. **

**STILL REVIEW THOUGH! I LOVE REVIEWS! THANK YOU~!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Me: *Looks at your choices* …You're all dead…**

**Translation (according to google): ****девочка- girlie**

"Ahhh!" you screamed, sandwiching yourself between Ivan and Romana, your eyes squeezed shut. You had no idea what had gotten into you; you'd never go on a suicide mission! You braced yourself for the cold, wooden ruler to hit you senselessly. However, it never came.

"Open your eyes, девочка~"

Cautiously, you peeked at the Russian with one open eye, not even realizing your hands were in pathetically in front of you. The tall man just stared at you, smiling, with his violet eyes glowing malevolently. His fingers were clenched around the ruler, but the ruler was splattered with blood. You didn't want to know whether it was Romana's or his own.

_No,_ you thought coldly, _His blood would be _black…

Deep, purple aura began to swirl around him, but his eyes never flickered to anyone but you. His smile, which was now slightly twitching, looked cracked. A flood of possibilities washed your mind; you could see him killing you with that ruler, jabbing your body happily. Perhaps he could choke you with his bare hands, listening greedily for you to beg. He could just beat you senselessly, and leave you there, hurting so bad that you _wished _he had killed you.

"Open both eyes, silly!" he chimed. "I want to make sure you can see me squish your tiny little body until it's broken. And then~ you can watch little Romana scream for help, just like you will~!"

_SMACK!_

"_Kolkolkolkolkolkolkolkolkol. . ."_

The world turned black. . .

(Page Break)

You woke up in a hospital bed, with bright lights in your tired eyes, every muscle in your body aching. The room smelled like sickly bitter medicine, and you crinkled your nose. Practically everything was white, from the fake white roses that sat in a white vase to the white floor that touched the white walls. The nightstand at your side was also white, just like the bed sheets. There were no windows in the room, which made you slightly depressed. Your vision was blurry, but slowly your eyes adjusted to the new area.

What had happened? You didn't know. All you remembered was that Ivan . . . the ruler. . . Oh, you couldn't think straight. Where had he hit you? Tenderly, you reached your hand to touch yourself, testing to see which place it hurt the most. _All_ of your muscles ached, and_ all_ of your skin was tattooed with black and blue. Your head was bandaged the most though, and you were scared to know what he had exactly done to you.

Your thoughts slowly drifted to Romana. Where was she? Did she get hurt? Or did she just run away like a coward, leaving you fall victim to Ivan's wrath?

No one came. Seconds passed, minutes passed, and even hours passed, and still, not even a doctor or a nurse, came to get you. Soon, you didn't even care whether or not people came to see you. You teetered between consciousness and unconsciousness, images of Antonio flashing in your head. Did he miss you? It broke your heart to think that he didn't care.

"(Name)? (Name) (Last Name)?" an unfamiliar voice called.

"Yes. . . ?" you answered hoarsely, not realizing until now that you sounded so weak. And parched. And hungry. And pretty much every other painful thing a person has to go through when they've been stuck in a hospital, sleeping.

A man, dressed in a white lab coat, sauntered into the room, holding a plastic white clipboard. He scribbled some notes onto it, but you weren't really paying attention. Was there any besides white? Seriously.

"Ah, yes, well, you certainly got a bit racked up now! Now, sweetie," he said very slowly, addressing you as if you were a child, "all you need is this one little shot, and everything will be fine."

"Could I go home?" you asked in feeble hope.

The doctor laughed.

"No, no," he said, smiling a fake smile. "You still need to heal up. After all, (Name), you can't be walking around school with a serious head injury like that!"

Your eyes casted down at the white floor sadly. How you hated hospitals. They always seemed to keep you in longer than you need to. Why couldn't you go?

Unconsciousness or sleep (you couldn't really tell the difference anymore) took you under its wing, letting you drift away from reality. It was nice because it was almost like a dream. You memories of Antonio melted together with your fantasies with him, and you enjoyed every moment of it.

"_(Name)?" you would hear Antonio's voice call for you as you walked through the empty halls of (School's Name)._

_You flipped around, only to see the familiar green-eyes Spaniard running towards you, a goofy smile on his face. You smiled back, seeing how perfect it was. He took his hands between your head, playing with your (h/c) hair. _

"_I love you, (Name)!" he chimed, his nose now touching yours._

"_I love you, too__—__"_

Reality woke you up. Like before, you were in the hospital bed, surrounded by white things. There was a soft knock on the door, but whoever it was just opened it anyway.

"(Name)? Oh, (Name)!" a voice cried hysterically, a figure that you just couldn't make out rushing towards you.

"Mom?" you murmured, blinking your eyes a few times before realizing what was happening.

"Oh, (Name)! I should have sent you to that good school, where the kids don't try to kill you with rulers!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.

"Mom, I'm fine. . ." you lied. If you were fine, then you wouldn't have to be here, in a hospital bed!

"No, no!" she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "You won't be attending (School's Name) anymore. I can't trust the staff after _this_ happened to you! You're going to go to Millwater School instead. You'll be safe there, I promise!"

And just like that, your world came tumbling down.

You didn't see your mom or the white room. Black engulfed you, making you slowly slink away from the real world into nothing. You just felt like you were falling.

You _were_ falling.

Falling. . .

Falling. . .

F

A

L

L

I

N

G

What will you do? Will you stand up to your own mother? Or will you just go ahead and leave?

**Note: You will STILL be in touch with Antonio if you leave. **

**REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry I was dead for so long, guys!**

**Translations:**

**Yo estaba tan jodidamente preocupados de que te habías ido- I was so f***ing worried you were gone.**

After a long week of white medications and white lab coats, you were finally discharged from the hospital. Your mom, who seemed happier than usual, was going on and on about all the wonderful, smart, and _safe_ things about your new school. You sat front seat in the car, your head leaning on the cold glass of the window. It was lightly raining, and you watched the droplets of water cascade down the window. Your mom's smile faltered, just like her voice when she looked over to you.

"Honey? What's wrong?" she asked, but you were silent. She sighed, and placed a hand on your shoulder as she slowly stopped the car at a red light. "I know that you don't want to leave your school. I understand that you're scared. But meeting new people is a great thing to do, and it's so much safer—"

"You don't understand, Mom," you whispered, afraid your voice would crack. "I'm not scared of new people. I just don't want to leave. There's still so much here that I can't . . . just . . . leave behind." A vivid image of Antonio popped up in your head. He was smiling, waving at you as the sun hit him. He was so beautiful and wonderful. . . Leaving him without telling him how you felt, how you _always_ felt. Your voice was cracking now, tears rimming your (e/c) eyes. You just wanted him. You wanted him to know.

. . . And you wanted him to feel the same way.

Your mom was silent for a moment as she continued driving, holding the steering wheel with an iron grip. She glanced at you from time to time, gears working in her brain as she tried to make sense out of it. By the time you got home, your mom had finally come to a conclusion.

"(Name)," she said calmly, looking at you with warm (mom's colored eyes) orbs. "It's a boy isn't it?"

You froze.

She smiled softly, knowing she hit the jackpot. You nodded, wiping a tear that had managed to escape without your permission. You two were still in the car, staring at each other as the soft _pitter-patter_ of the rain surrounded you.

"I think I understand," she said softly. "I would be like that, too. I just wanted to make sure you were safe, (Name). I had trouble with my mother when I was your age, too. I just want . . . to be the perfect mother. For our family's sake."

Guilt and love swelled up in your heart, and you reached to hug her. You sobbed into her shoulder. All of this was too much on you. Antonio, Ivan, Romana . . . Why did your life have to suck? And now, your dear mother, who was going to force you into a new school was here, hugging you while you cried. Keeping in all of that emotion and never being able to let it out. . .

"I love you, Mom. I love you," you repeated as tears streamed your cheeks and your eyes became puffy and red. "I love you, I love you."

(Page Break)

The first day of school since the accident. Every step you took felt like lead, and you mindlessly continued to touch one of the long, dark scars that appeared on your arm. You used this lotion-thing to make most of the scars go away, but this stubborn one just wouldn't leave. Many of the students stared at you as you walked through the halls. It was no doubt that you have been the biggest gossip hit for the past week. You found yourself staring at you feet as you tried to navigate through the crowd. Whispers, rumors, secrets. . . They floated all around you as you walked.

"(N-Name)? Is t-that really . . . ?" a voice broke you from the mellow spell that had taken you over. You looked around, only to meet two bright green orbs. You smiled softly, walking towards him sheepishly. His face looked so shocked, as if he had seen a ghost. Brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, you looked up at him with a small grin.

"The one and only," you croaked out, not realizing how much damage you had taken until now.

"Oh, my god," he whispered, embracing you in a sudden hug. You gasped, feeling his strong arms around your frame. You were so shocked that you couldn't think; you just stood there, arms limp as he continued to hug you.

" Yo estaba tan jodidamente preocupados de que te habías ido," he muttered quickly in Spanish, and you didn't understand any of it. He managed to crack a warm smile at you, and then realized that he was still hugging you. He scrambled away, as if embarrassed. You shuffled your feet together.

"What, did the doctors make you mute, chica?" he joked, and you let out a laugh.

"No, but they did brainwash me into thinking that you're an idiot. Wait, you actually are," you teased, punching him in the arm.

The arm that was holding you a few moments back.

You blushed at the thought, and then looked back at Antonio. "Is Romana okay?" you asked him, and he beamed.

"My little Romana is such a fighter! She's perfectly fine! In fact, she gave me a good smack in the face yesterday! Hahahaha," the Spanish boy laughed heartily, and you gave him a fake smile. Even after all of this, he was still in love with her.

But, as he walked you to class, you wondered if he felt that same spark when you two touched. . .

(Page Break)

"KESESESESE! THE AWESOME ME HAS ARRIVED!" a certain Prussian boy yelled as he smacked his lunchbox on the table, taking a seat.

"Must you be zo loud?" the Frenchman argued, poking him with his plastic fork. "(Name) and I were 'aving a good conversation until you came in. Isn't zat right, (Name)?"

"Yep," you said as you poked at the Italian pasta you got from "Romana" (more like Feliciana) for "saving" her. The crimson-eyed noticed your quiet mood, and he frowned.

"(Name)! The awesome me is here! Being boring sucks balls!" whined Gilbert. The Frenchman nudged him.

"(Name) is 'aving a 'ard time wiz 'er lover who doesn't really love 'er. She was telling me zis just before you came in," Francis whispered in his ear.

Gilbert, being a big gossiper who loves to know all the dirt on everyone, was intrigued by this. "Vat? Who does (Name) like? I can beat him up!" he replied, and you shot him a dark look. You weren't quite sure if you could tell them who you liked just yet. After all, Francis and Gilbert were best friends with Antonio, and you were positive that they would side with him.

"He's just someone who already has a date to the dance," you said sadly, tugging on the cloth of your shirt.

Gilbert's eyes lit up. "Dance? The awesome me may be too awesome for a puny dance, but I have an idea!" He beckoned you closer, whispering his plan in your ear. Immediately, you blushed at his evil little scheme.

Starting now, you will be dating Gilbert Beilschmidt.

What will you do? Will you go along with Gilbert's scheme? Or will you say no?

**Hey, hey. The summary said a twinge of Various X Fem!Reader. **

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